For Those We Cherish
by Papa Cipher
Summary: A mercenary fighter squadron, the "Lamenters" have distinguished themselves as one of the more notable fighter squadrons throughout the Abyssal War, but not entirely for good reasons. With the Atlantic Theater being reinforced by allied forces, they are sent to a new battlefront… The Pacific.
1. Would? (Part One)

**Chapter One: Would? (Part One)**

* * *

Note: This is a revamped first chapter that is going to be divided into three parts due to the length, there are a few changes that have been made and some new information added from the original chapter.

* * *

 **"Into the flood again,**

 **Same old trip it was back then.**

 **So I made a big mistake,**

 **Try to see it once my way." – Alice In Chains**

* * *

The calm winter air was shattered by the ear-splitting roar of engines, the intense rumbling from each aircraft loud enough to wake the dead. Even so, the disturbance did not affect the still landscape below them, blanketed by ice and snow.

It wouldn't be long before these planes had reached the southern coastline of Alaska, thundering towards their objective with due haste, afterburners screeching at the frozen earth below. The pilots at this point didn't know too much, just that they needed to reach the area of operations as quickly as possible.

The deployed squadron was a mix of F-18 Hornets and F-15 Eagles, some of them were more advanced variants, such as Super Hornets or Strike Eagles.

They were split up into four different flights, each flight soaring at different altitudes.

The flights that were a majority of F-15s, them being air superiority fighters, were flying at higher altitudes whilst the formations with F-18s, the Hornets being multirole fighters, were flying a few thousand feet lower.

Every plane carried an emblem that was emblazoned on each Hornet and Eagle tail fin. A red bleeding-heart set against a yellow and checkerboard background. These emblems were well-suited to the gray paint job that was also standard for the entire squadron.

In total, they numbered some thirty-five planes, nearly a full-strength mercenary squadron.

"This is AWACS WEEPING ANGEL, are you picking me up, Rapier One?"

The young pilot on the other end of the transmission listened to the radio operator's words while simultaneous inspecting his flight controls and sensors, ensuring that everything was normal with his aircraft.

"Roger, I read you just fine WEEPING ANGEL," Seamus O'Doherty replied calmly.

 _"This new guy sounds like he's my age. Maybe even younger,"_ he thought to himself.

"Good, I opened this channel to the entire squadron. I know all of you were given a brief explanation back at Elmendorf, but I'm gonna give you the full rundown on the situation that's developing right now, so listen up!"

The mercenary nodded at his radio, he would definitely appreciate an explanation as to why he and the rest of his squadron were all gunning it to the Alaskan coastline at nearly full bore now. Luckily the area of operations was close enough that fuel shouldn't really be an issue for the squadron.

"Unfortunately, the US Air Force will be unable to spare any reinforcements for our sortie due to them having their own assignment with our Russian and Canadian allies in the Bering Strait. This means that Lamenter Squadron will be solely responsible for providing air cover for our contact."

Seamus raised an eyebrow at his radio.

 _"Top cover for a contact? So that's why they told us to pack a shit ton of AMRAAMs and Sidewinders."_

"Our contact is currently being hemmed in by at least six Abyssal surface combatants, and multiple squadrons of enemy fighters and dive bombers. Looks like our poor girl got herself separated from her fleet and sailed right into an ambush."

O'Doherty cringed from behind his oxygen mask.

Shipgirls in trouble was never a good thing. Even losing a single one could be a pretty hefty blow to any allied fleet.

The Abyssals already outnumbered the shipgirls by a stupidly ridiculous figure on a global scale and many humanity-loyal forces were bogged down fighting Abyssal cultists around the globe, so maintaining the fighting strength of the shipgirls was absolutely crucial to the war effort.

He shuttered at the thought of the human cultists that swore allegiance to the Abyssal faction and the insane acts they carried out in their 'goddesses' names.

" _Still can't believe what those sick motherfuckers did to Denver and New Orleans, and that's only counting the shit they did in America."_

"This sounds like a pretty bad fucking day for our fleetie girl, doesn't it?" Seamus's wingman voiced his thoughts.

"Not exactly a career highlight," the voice of a female pilot joined in.

"Fucking Abbies! What pieces of shit! This was supposed to be our day off!" another pilot cursed.

The radio operator continued his in-flight briefing unhindered despite the comments from the Lamenter pilots.

"From what we have gathered, all of the Abyssal vessels have her completely surrounded and together with the enemy aircraft, are giving her an absolute beating. You better get there before she sinks. Last we heard; she had already taken moderate damage."

"And who is our shipgirl?" Seamus asked, feeling himself press into the gas even more.

He was not going to let this shipgirl die today, the extra thrust causing his plane's afterburners to seemingly roar in agreement with him.

 _"Good girl, we'll protect her together,"_ O'Doherty mentally praised his Super Hornet, one out of the only four planes in the entire squadron with a red stripe painted on its left wing.

The red stripe of a Flight Leader.

He whispered a silent thank-you to the extraordinary Lamenter maintenance and ground crews that worked tirelessly to keep his F-18 healthy and capable.

If he survived this engagement, then drinks for the entire squadron, whether that be the pilots, the AWACS crew, or any of the support staff, would be on him.

He smirked to himself at the thought.

Seamus was a well-paid mercenary; he could afford it.

"Can't confirm this one hundred percent, but as we understand, it's Shimakaze of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force, formerly of the Imperial Japanese Navy."

"That one's a destroyer, right? If that's the case, I understand why we're hauling ass now. She won't last very long by herself," Tony Vittorio, Seamus's wingman, said.

After his Super Hornet passed through a small cloud, Seamus saw the view of the coastline. The undisturbed serenity of the snow-white ground gave way to the matching silence of the dark blue of the Northern Pacific.

He silently wondered if there were any crazy fishermen out there trying to get a nice haul, sailing out to sea despite both the usual environmental threats and now the newer Abyssal threat.

Seamus was still amazed at how many people still decided sail out to sea with zero escort, unlike the supply convoys around the globe that navies, air forces, and shipgirls smothered with protection.

" _Of course there's fishermen out there,"_ he knew.

Humans sometimes tend to have balls of steel like that.

"What are the Japanese doing up here in Alaskan waters? I thought our shipgirls had this sector covered."

"Bering Strait is my guess," the AWACS operator reasoned.

"Goddammit."

Seamus grimaced as he flipped the switch to turn on his radar and then ordered the rest of the squadron to do the same. It wouldn't be long until they would reach the AO.

Many scenarios played out in his mind.

They would engage, smash the enemy aircraft, and Claymore Flight would help the Japanese destroyer sink the Abyssal ships. It would be a clean mission accomplished, and Lamenter Squadron would win the shipgirl's eternal gratitude for the rescue.

Or perhaps, they would annihilate the Abyssal air power, only to watch poor Shimakaze be claimed by the frigid Alaskan waves. It wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened in the squadron's history, especially after the pyrrhic victory that was the Bermuda Campaign.

Or worse, somehow the ambush was not just for Shimakaze but for his entire squadron as well, forcing Seamus to once again watch his comrades go down, listening to the shrieks of unhinged terror that were trapped in burning hunks of ruined metal and charred electronics, plummeting thousands of feet out of the sky…

He himself not being able to do a single damn thing to save them.

Some of them would cry out in agony as the flames licked their bodies, others would erupt into chilling screams, the doomed pilots beginning to pathetically beg and sob for God or their parents to save them.

But the worst were the silent ones.

Perhaps, they were already dead.

Maybe, they were so shocked that they could not speak.

But, there were definitely those who had accepted their fates, who faced their own deaths with a silent, grim acknowledgment.

For some reason, those ones stuck with Seamus the most. Something about an eerie, unresponsive cockpit always made his stomach churn with unease.

The overwhelming lack of successful ejections during those times was incredibly disheartening for him.

 _"Twenty-seven,"_ Seamus reminded himself, _"twenty-seven pilots lost under my command."_

If asked, he knew that he could recite the first and last names of each of those pilots flawlessly.

A rapidly repeating smacking sound pulled Seamus out of his thoughts. It certainly didn't sound like any alarms, beeping instruments, or incoming fire, so he was at a loss for what it was.

That was, until he looked down at his legs.

He was furiously slapping his thigh, his leg bouncing as he did so.

Even a veteran mercenary like Captain Seamus O'Doherty still had pre-battle jitters, it seemed.

"AWACS, Lamenter Squadron is requesting bogey dope. Get us some targets," he calmly declared, refocusing his mind on the upcoming task at hand.

He managed to stop his nervous twitching as his radar beeped, signaling that it was beginning to detect contacts. The radar was giving a burst of three consecutive beeps for every new blip on his radar screen.

"Roger, Lamenter Squadron. You've got multiple contacts in three separate groups, possibly divided by squadron. One group of contacts is bearing vector two-eight-zero, angels ten, one hundred miles out. This formation is likely a fighter squadron," the AWACS operator replied.

Seamus nodded as he gazed up towards the F-15 formation flying above him, the sky a light blue with a smattering of small clouds. He couldn't really see them since they were much higher up than he was, but thanks to his radar, he had a rough idea of where they were.

"That formation is all you Greg."

"You got it Cap," the Texan accent of Gregory Burdette replied.

"By the way, where is your flight at right now?" Seamus asked.

"Saber Flight is at angels twenty-four, on your ten o'clock from what I can see," Greg answered.

Seamus nodded as he looked back down on his radar screen, which had been beeping non-stop since it began.

He counted at least ten blips on the radar before giving up, with new blips appearing by the second.

They were a lot of enemy contacts.

That was fine, Abyssal fighter squadrons typically outnumbered the Lamenter Squadron many times over on a regular basis anyway.

With the Abyssal aircraft typically being the equivalent of various World War two fighters, taking them on in fourth-generation fighter jets armed with air-to-air missiles, faster engines that allowed for 'Boom and Zoom' tactics, and modern avionics that included a strong radar, was child's play.

There were really only two major fears when it came to engaging Abyssal fighters.

Getting overwhelmed by sheer numbers in a close-up dogfight and running out of ammunition.

"The second group is bearing two-four-zero, angels six, ninety miles out. This formation is likely to be a fighter-bomber squadron of some kind," reported James Wrong, the AWACS radio operator.

"Roger, us in Rapier Flight will handle that one," Seamus declared.

"Alright, the last formation is flying really low, on the deck as a matter-of-fact. These guys are at vector two-one-zero, eighty miles out. Hmm…these guys might possibly be torpedo planes…" James mused out loud.

"Mac! Estoc Flight takes care of that. Intercept them before they can deploy their torpedoes. We've seen firsthand what torps can do to shipgirls, it's not pretty," Seamus ordered.

"Yes Cap, we'll take care of it," Ryan MacDonnell complied.

"Enemy surface vessels at vector two-three-zero, seventy miles out. I can now confirm that they have Shimakaze surrounded. I count at least three Abyssal destroyers, two light cruisers, their class unknown, and one…wait…that can't be right…"

Seamus double-checked his sensors, fuel gauges, and gazed out of both sides of his cockpit to make sure that the Rapier Flight planes were appropriately spaced apart from each other. The fact that some of the planes were leaving contrails made this check easier for him.

No reason to be flying in a tight formation.

"Holy shit…" James trailed off.

As far as Seamus knew, the Abyssal ambush was mainly an air attack with only a few ships to hold Shimakaze in place. Not a particularly difficult sounding mission, at least not by mercenary standards. But the tone of the AWACS operator's voice still made the squadron leader concerned.

"Hey," Seamus called out, wanting an explanation for the operator's silence.

As more and more seconds ticked by, there was still no answer on the radio. A radio that was working perfectly fine, he might have added.

"Hey! Talk to me WEEPING ANGEL! Something up?!" Seamus demanded, concern seeping through into his voice.

There was another uncomfortably long pause before James spoke again.

"Lamenter Squadron! Get there now! Shimakaze is fucked if you don't do something! That's a fucking **Battleship Princess**!" the urgency of the young AWACS operator's voice came in clear from over the radio.

There was a dead moment of silence cascaded over the squadron like a forming wave. But like all waves, it eventually fell with a loud crash.

"Are you fucking with us?!"

"I don't believe this shit!"

"Out here just to pick on a destroyer?! The fuck?!"

"Why here?! Why now?!"

"Are you sure?! Double-check that shit!"

It didn't take long for the mercenary pilots of Lamenter Squadron to collectively freak out.

The radio soon became overwhelmed by the chatter, urgent pleas for confirmation, and angry cursing from the pilots. The noise on the radio became reminiscent of a large hall or theater filled with talking people having dozens of different conversations at once.

Seamus knew he had to stop this.

Now.

He took a shaky deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Everybody shut up!" he barked into his radio, resisting the undeniable urge to start panicking himself.

The radio immediately fell silent for most of the pilots.

"Cap, you don't think-"

"We're **not** cursed, Greg," Seamus gave his reply loudly and clearly.

At that, an audible sigh from the leader of Saber Flight could be heard on the radio.

"Alright then. It's your call, Cap," Greg said with a defeated tone.

"Mark! Is your flight packin' Harpoons?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah, Cap. We've got two AGM-84 Harpoon anti-ship missiles per Hornet. Seeing that we've got seven Hornets here in Claymore Flight, that makes a total of fourteen anti-ship missiles between us," the deep baritone voice of Marcus Jackson responded.

Seamus nodded to his radio, ignoring the continuous beeping of the radar as more and more enemy blips showed up.

"Roger Mark, as tempting as it is, don't use all of them on the Battleship Princess. Remember, our mission is to get Shimakaze the fuck out of there. If the Abyssal Princess has to survive to make that happen, then so be it," Seamus coached.

He managed a slight smile when he heard the collective groans from the Claymore pilots, even hearing Marcus's own disapproval joining in with his charges.

He understood why they were upset about his orders.

Bagging an Abyssal Princess was rare and doing so gained those responsible a great deal of prestige. Not to mention bragging rights over other fighter squadrons. There was no telling how long it would be before an opportunity to kill an Abyssal Princess like this would come again.

"Instead, focus your fire on the other Abyssal ships keeping Shimakaze pinned. Once they're gone, then by all means, wake that Abby bitch up with your remaining missiles if you want," Seamus finished with a smirk.

"After these orders, we'll need to blow off some steam," Marcus replied, feinting displeasure.

Seamus was pleased with their plans and their approaches to their objectives. All four flights of Lamenter Squadron now had their own assignments.

He watched as the planes from both Estoc and Claymore flights split off towards their own objectives.

Estoc Flight turned right to intercept the possible torpedo planes and Claymore Flight peeled left to begin their attack runs on the Abyssal ships.

As if on cue, he gazed down at his still-beeping radar and noticed that the enemy fighter-bomber formation was nearly in AIM-120 range for his own Rapier Flight.

"Rapier Flight, Master Arm on!" Seamus declared, flipping the Master Arm switch to activate his weapon systems.

"Roger! Rapier Two is hot!" Tony replied, flipping his own switch.

Seamus gazed down at his weapons display monitor and saw that he had his AMRAAMs selected. He would need to be a little closer to the enemy for the medium-range air-to-air missiles to achieve a radar lock.

His display showed that his Super Hornet was armed with six AMRAAMs, six heat-seeking Sidewinder missiles and that his twenty-millimeter cannon was loaded with four hundred and twelve rounds.

"Rapier Flight, maintain angels six. We're heading right for them!" he ordered.

He stole a quick glance back down at his radar.

Another two or three minutes maybe.

The familiar thrill and terror of combat was starting to invade Seamus once more. Although he was a veteran pilot, many of those with him were not. Remembering why his squadron was staffed with so many rookies left a sour taste in his mouth.

A veteran pilot.

A blonde kid from Seattle, Washington that just had his twenty-second birthday a few weeks ago was somehow a mercenary fighter pilot.

And a Squadron Leader at that.

He sighed.

If he was going to speak, it might as well be now.

"Lamenters, we are about to be in AIM-120 range soon. Make sure you lock up your target real good and remember to switch targets after every fire."

The radio was silent for all other pilots, even James in the AWACS was quiet. Hearing their commander speak was enough to silence the entire squadron.

"Keeping a cool head will do wonders for keeping you alive. Maintain focus on the mission and mission objectives, and don't forget to relay your angels and status through comms."

Seamus glanced down at his radar, the AMRAAM he selected was nearly in range of an Abyssal fighter.

Not long now.

"And for fuck's sake, don't forget to call out 'Raygun' if you are unsure of what you are locking onto to. On that note, try to keep buddy spikes to a minimum please."

The beeping tone of his AMRAAM searching for a target turned into the whining tone of a successful radar lock. Seamus stared into his HUD, nodding in approval.

"Looks like we're ready to go here. Keep your spacing, maintain your altitude, and let's give our esteemed guests a most generous AMRAAM volley!"

"Amen, Cap!" Tony responded.

But Seamus wasn't done.

He took a deep breath before smiling from behind his oxygen mask.

This was his favorite part.

 **"For those we cherish-"** he began.

 **"We die in glory!"** the pilots of Lamenter Squadron all shouted in unison.

"Rapier One, Fox Three!" Seamus yelled, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he hit the red button on the top of his flight stick.

Seamus heard a distinct thump from under his plane as the AMRAAM that was locked on dropped from its pylon and for a second, did nothing but fall and let gravity take it.

Its thruster then ignited as if the missile was awoken, and the sound of the guided munition roared in Seamus's ears as it made its way over the horizon and towards its target, a brilliant white streak of smoke left in its wake.

"Rapier Two, Fox Three!" Tony declared with excitement, the Chicago native cueing up his next AMRAAM, "Let's get to work, Cap!"

"Rapier Four, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Five, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Six, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Seven, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Eight, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Nine, Fox Three!"

"Rapier Ten, Fox Three!"

"Retarget and fire again! Keep doing that until we've used up our AMRAAMs and then we'll close with the enemy with our Sidewinders and guns!" Seamus ordered.

With nine AMRAAMs from the nine pilots of Rapier Flight soaring to their targets, for Lamenter Squadron, the battle had just begun.

* * *

 **The other two revised parts will be out shortly!**


	2. Would? (Part Two)

**Chapter One: Would? (Part Two)**

* * *

Note: This is a revamped first chapter that is going to be divided into three parts due to the length, there are a few changes that have been made and some new information added from the original chapter.

* * *

 **"Into the flood again,**

 **Same old trip it was back then.**

 **So I made a big mistake,**

 **Try to see it once my way." – Alice In Chains**

* * *

The battle was going terribly.

A shell from an Abyssal destroyer narrowly missed Shimakaze as she skirted hard to the right. She could feel the droplets of water from the splash that followed sprinkle on her left arm.

The Alaskan water had made her shivering non-stop at this point.

 _"I don't want to sink into that,"_ she thought.

Her 'Rensouhou-chan' returned the favor as it returned fire, its twin-guns hammering that same Abyssal destroyer with two high explosive shells. Fire, smoke, and rent metal filled Shimakaze's view of her stricken enemy.

It didn't take long for her to see it slowly sink beneath the waves as it succumbed to the constant barrage of Shimakaze's guns for the past few minutes.

"My first kill today!" she shouted, trying to lift her own spirits.

Her right arm was nearly blown to pieces and the blood flowing down from the top of her head had made it hard for her to see out of her right eye. Each of her legs and her stomach had taken superficial damage as well. Her clothing was ripped and torn in several different places, making her outfit even more revealing than it already was. One of her twin gun turrets was knocked out of commission, both of its barrels bent in unnatural angles.

If things had not been bad enough, she heard the thunderous explosion of a battleship's main guns once again.

The shipgirl's heart jumped into her throat as she swayed left and right with the precision of a champion figure skater, massive geysers of water created from the missed shots of a 16-inch Triple Gun Mount drenching her as she desperately evaded.

 _"Good thing I'm fast!"_

Shimakaze impressed herself with that display of dodging, she had not expected to survive that salvo without a scratch. The other Abyssal ships were already trouble enough, the presence of that Battleship Princess was only making things more miserable for her.

" _All I wanted was to race, I didn't think I'd end up alone!"_ She mentally cursed herself for insisting on having a race with Amatsukaze.

" _I know I'm faster than her, but I didn't think I'd beat her so bad that I lost her and everyone else's radar signatures!"_

Her vision blacked out as a shot from an enemy destroyer impacted with her face, blowing her head back and staggering her. She struggled to keep her balance while her senses attempted to recover from such a direct hit from an enemy shell. The blast had her entire face stinging with intense pain, her ears were ringing, and for the time being, she couldn't open her eyes just yet.

"OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! You guys are jerks!" Shimakaze screamed, hoping that her shouts would somehow ease her pain.

When she heard the recognizable crash of the enemy Battleship Princess opening up with its main guns once again, the destroyer frantically fought to regain her balance. The second she rediscovered her sea legs, she sped off in a random direction to avoid being hit.

From what she could hear, it was perfect timing too, since all of the other Abyssal ships had all fired as well. Her eyes twitched uncontrollably at first, but despite having to wipe off the blood from her eyelids, she was able to see again.

Shimakaze shrieked in surprise when found herself staring face to face with the very destroyer who shot her.

The black monster snarled at her as it tried to line up its next shot to hit the Japanese destroyer point blank.

The shipgirl reacted quickly, zipping completely around the destroyer, attempting to get behind it. Her face stung even more as a cold gust of air scraped against her face as she moved, making her wince in mid-maneuver. The wind hitting her face made her realize that multiple pieces of shrapnel had embedded themselves onto her face, each spot making her feel like it had been pricked with glass shards.

The Abyssal failed to anticipate its target pulling a sudden move like this and was slow to react as a result, firing its gun at the spot where the shipgirl was a mere second ago.

Now that she had successfully slipped behind her target, Shimakaze dumped one of her torpedo racks. All five launch tubes released their munitions, making a satisfying thump as the torpedoes were ejected from their holding cells and splashed into the water, now set free to hunt at their leisure. Shimakaze skirted away, watching as five white trails soared eagerly towards the intended target like blood-hungry harbingers of death.

By the time the Abyssal had realized what was happening, three torpedoes slammed into its starboard side in quick succession.

The resulting detonations ripped and tore the now creaking hull of the enemy destroyer, rendering three impressive holes that the saltwater was delighted to rush into.

As the enemy destroyer began to sink into the chilling Alaskan water, Shimakaze just realized that she was somehow still alive, even after tanking a direct hit to her face, and managed to defeat two Abyssal ships in the process.

"Ow! My face! My arm! My **everything**!" she whined, the elation from her victory sapped away by the stinging pain all over her body.

A splash next to her caused the saltwater to drench her entire body, including her face, aggravating her discomfort even more. Of course, the enemy had to literally dump salt all over her wounds.

Irritated, she glared up at the sky and spotted the culprit. A single Abyssal dive bomber was pulling out of its failed bombing run and returning to its formation.

A formation that was steadily getting larger and closer in Shimakaze's view. There were simply too many planes to count, probably an entire squadron from her judgement. The Abyssal formation looked like a dotted black cloud in the sky. She could now hear the rumbling of the Abyssal engines as they approached in unison.

"Are you kidding me!?" Shimakaze cried in frustration.

The entire Abyssal dive bomber squadron responded to her question by all dropping their altitudes, and in perfect formation, all headed towards their prey. They all lined up their vectors, appearing to try using their overwhelming numbers to carpet bomb the area of sea that Shimakaze was currently standing in.

As they drew closer, Shimakaze snapped out of her stupor and darted away as fast as she could. Even with her speed, however, the dive bombers seemed to be able to adjust their vectors without much issue.

The fact that, as much as she hated to admit it, the enemy planes were much faster than Shimakaze could ever hope to be.

To add even more insult, the guns of the remaining Abyssal ships all fired together in one salvo, punctuated by the booming of the Battleship Princess's guns once more.

The Japanese destroyer began to swerve back and forth successfully dodging shells, her adrenaline cranking her senses into maximum overdrive. Every splash of a missed shell, whether a small geyser or a large one courtesy of the Battleship Princess, kept Shimakaze alert and paranoid.

After a massive pillar of water narrowly missed her, a few of the Abyssal planes pitched up to climb above their comrades, allowing them to drop their bombs prematurely. The fast destroyer saw this coming and was able to slide out of the way, but her floating gun mount was not so lucky.

Her floating Rensouhou-chan, who had been keeping pace with her up to this point, was kissed with two direct bomb hits. The bombs ruined the entire now-smoking turret, its gun barrels twisted and bent.

"No!"

It was obvious to at a glance that the afflicted turret was out of the fight.

Disdainfully, she scooped up the floating turret in her left arm, frowning down at her damaged Rensouhou as she recognized that she was down to her rig-mounted turret.

"My poor Rensouhou-chan! You bastards!" she shouted, glaring up at the enemy air formation.

She made a risky move by turning her back to the Abyssal ships and fired her autocannon, attempting to break their formation. She recognized that not only were the planes hunting her down, but they were also pushing her towards the Abyssal Princess.

The Abyssal planes held firm though, even as one of their own began to burst into flames and dropped from the sky thanks to Shimakaze's autocannon scoring a few nice hits on it.

Now that the lone shipgirl was closer, the thundering of the enemy Princess's guns was shaking the water around her, causing a wake effect that nearly made her lose her balance for a second time today.

As the enemy aircraft grew closer, the fast destroyer swerved in a zigzag to dodge the incoming shells from the remaining Abyssal ships. The geysers of water erupted around her once again, indicating that each shot had missed again, much to Shimakaze's relief.

Even as her autocannon successfully shot down a second incoming dive bomber, she knew that it would only be a moment before they would be in the optimal position to dive and drop their payload. Every attempt she made to dodge, every direction change, every time she slowed down or sped up to try and shake them, the Abyssal planes mirrored her every movement.

It was only a matter of time.

And worse yet, she was still speeding ever closer to the eldritch horror that was the Abyssal Princess. Thanks to her radar, she also had no doubts that the other Abyssal ships were closing in as well, tightening the noose.

Shimakaze was still boxed in by the coordination of the enemy, a depressing thought accentuating by the fact that the enemy planes were now diving, preparing to finish off the Japanese destroyer once and for all.

There was no evading the bombing run.

No matter what direction change the shipgirl made, no matter how long her autocannon could continue to fire, at least a few bombs were going to hit her, and considering her already wounded state, her sinking was practically assured.

She stared as the dive bombers roared towards her, their jaws grinning with lustful anticipation, no doubt imagining Shimakaze's crimson liquid so frantically spilled. The images of her destruction were burning hot with desire within them as if this was their one goal, their one purpose. Images of choking black smoke billowing and a raging inferno ejecting from her crumbling body, her limbs, and innards dispersed out amongst the waves. Each one of the dive bombers was salivating red at the prospect of her ruin…

Her doom.

"I guess only being fast isn't good enough..." the fast destroyer sighed, taking one last look up at her reapers.

White streaks of smoke soared through the air at a speed that even impressed Shimakaze, and she watched as they slammed into several of the Abyssal dive bombers, plumes of brilliant fire erupting from the stricken aircraft.

"Wha-" was all she could get out before a second volley of white contrails collided with more bombers, blasting them apart.

Instead of the bombs that would end her, shards of dive bomber remains were raining down from the sky.

The shipgirl stared up at the shattered debris of the Abyssal planes, absolutely dumbfounded.

The sudden attack had shaken the Abyssal squadron's concentration, causing many of the survivors to scatter and break off their bombing run. Abyssal fighter-bombers broke left, broke right, or climbed to a higher altitude, but very few of them were able to stay on target.

Few enough that to the wounded destroyer, were now manageable.

Shimakaze's radio, which had been silent up to this point, was now picking up a voice.

"Japanese destroyer Shimakaze, this is AWACS WEEPING ANGEL, please respond."

The bizarre feeling of hearing a voice so suddenly after she had just gotten done accepting her own sinking made it hard for her to shake herself out of her shocked state.

Once she had taken a couple seconds to accomplish that, she was still bewildered by something else.

The voice on the radio itself.

 _"Is that…English?"_

"Attention Shimakaze, please adjust your radio to channel one-point-three-five-five!" a young male voice urged.

Shimakaze shook her head in disbelief. Not only did an English-speaker manage to find her radio frequency right after she had been saved, but she understood him!

 _"I guess those English lessons with Intrepid and Saratoga paid off after all!"_

Saved.

 _"Wait, are these guys a relief force?"_ she pondered momentarily, before obeying the operator and switching her channel to the appropriate frequency.

"Ra****ox Three!" the static was still clearing from Shimakaze's radio as this voice spoke.

"Rapier Two, Fox Three!" a second voice came in clearer.

She was now picking up other voices as well, all of them appearing to speak English.

She also noticed that a third wave of those flying white trails veering towards more of the remaining dive bombers and witnessed the corresponding detonation once they reached their targets. Some of these weapons even managed to shoot down some of the Abyssal planes that managed to stay on target with Shimakaze. Dodging the few bombs that the enemy survivors dropped now seemed like a cakewalk for her.

As she zipped to the left and right, watching her attackers' munitions drop uselessly into the water, she realized that those white streaks must have been missiles.

As if on cue, another volley of AMRAAMs found purchase in more of the Abyssal bombers, reducing them to mangled husks of metal and thinning their ranks even further.

"Pilots huh?" she mused out loud, now speaking English herself and gazing up at the sky where she thinks the fighter jets might be.

"That's right! Lamenter Squadron of the Blood Angels Mercenary Legion has arrived to get you the hell outta here!" announced the same radio operator from before.

There seemed to be a bit of pride in the AWACS operator's statement.

 _"Mercenaries? Like the Imperial Fists or Emperor's Children back in Japan?"_

Shimakaze continued to listen to him as she dodged another salvo from the Abyssal ships, a near-miss shell from the enemy Battleship Princess soaring over her head. The wind caused by the shot forced the fast destroyer to blow her bangs away from her eyes. Once her vision was clear again, she refocused her attention on searching for a new target.

"Our pilots will hold off the enemy air forces, and our Claymore Flight is packing anti-ship missiles. Once they sink the enemy cruisers and destroyer, retreat to the southwest at vector two-two-zero," the AWACS operator instructed.

Shimakaze looked down to inspect herself.

She was still drenched, and now that her adrenaline had worn off, she could feel the stinging from the saltwater that had seeped into her wounds once more.

Her right arm was practically gone, her left arm was holding her out of commission Rensouhou, her head was still bleeding, the shrapnel in her face was still there, she was down to one gun turret and on top of all that, she was exhausted from the extended battle.

If she made it back to base alive, it was clear that she would need extensive repairs.

"I will use the torpedoes I have left to sink one of the enemy ships," she declared confidently.

"Absolutely not! There's **no** way you are in fighting condition right now. Please retreat!"

"Once I use up my torpedoes, I'll retreat like you said. As long as your pilots keep the planes away from me, I'll be fine! Don't worry, I'm too quick for the Abyssal ships!" she cheered back to him, actually lifting her own spirits in the process.

"That's insa-you know what? Fine. As long as you survive," the operator replied with a defeated tone.

With her mind made up, Shimakaze made her way to the nearest light cruiser.

* * *

 **And here is part two of three of the first chapter!**


	3. Would? (Part Three)

**Chapter One: Would? (Part Three)**

* * *

Note: This is a revamped first chapter that is going to be divided into three parts due to the length, there are a few changes that have been made and some new information added from the original chapter.

* * *

 **"Into the flood again,**

 **Same old trip it was back then.**

 **So I made a big mistake,**

 **Try to see it once my way." – Alice In Chains**

* * *

"Fox Three!" Seamus declared, watching as his weapons display monitor informed him that he had spent his last AMRAAM.

Rapier Flight's formation was swiftly closing with the enemy fighter-bomber squadron, each Super Hornet intent on hunting down the enemies that had attempted to assassinate a shipgirl.

Seeing how close they were getting to the enemy, Seamus and the rest of his flight laid off the gas and let their afterburners peter out.

"Once all AMRAAMs are fired, remain dispersed and keep the current vector. It may look like it, but we are not actually going to merge with them. Once we get into range, we will pop off a Sidewinder and then make a diagonal climb to gather some energy," Seamus ordered.

He glanced down at his radar and noticed that it wouldn't be long before his flight would reach the close range needed for their heat-seeking Sidewinders. He also noticed that the target he fired his last AMRAAM at had disappeared from radar, implying that he splashed the bandit.

The fact that the Abyssal planes had no real countermeasures against either radar-guided or heatseeking missiles made the Lamenters job a lot easier. He was not looking forward to the day when the enemy learns to detect when missiles have been fired at them.

" _Then the bastards will start dumping chaff and flares like modern fighters do. Hopefully they stay ignorant for a while longer."_

Knowing that this wasn't the time to be having such thoughts, Seamus re-focus his mind on the current situation.

"We'll pull a Split S and bank in behind them. Then, we can really let them have it with our AIM-9s and guns. Remember that they will still outnumber us," he continued to cite his strategy for the Abyssal dive bombers.

"Roger Cap, we'll follow you," Tony replied, his own Super Hornet zooming through a small cloud and popping out the other side.

"Keep your head on a swivel, these things are small and easy to lose track of. Refer to your radar regularly. If any manage to slip in behind you, gun your engines to outrun their weapons, we're much faster than they are. I've yet to see an Abyssal aircraft be armed with missiles, so this should work every time," Seamus advised, his plan emphasizing using the advantages of the Lamenter Squadron's fighter jets over the enemy aircraft.

It was then that Rapier Flight entered a moderately-sized cloud formation. The squadron leader appreciated the visual cover that the clouds would provide on their approach to the enemy, even though the Lamenters didn't really need it. He looked around at the gray puffs of cloud surrounding his Super Hornet and spared a glance at the water droplets forming on his canopy.

As Rapier Flight broke through the cloud cover, Seamus could see the open ocean below him. Now that the mercenary jets were much closer, he could start to make out the Abyssal dive bombers by the naked eye. They were only small black dots to him right now, but that was all he needed to see.

"Saber Flight check-in. How are things, Greg?" Seamus asked the radio.

The radio crackled before he heard the voice of his fellow Flight Leader.

"We're tearing them up. Won't be long before they rout! No losses on our side," Greg reported ecstatically, his Texan accent being amplified by the radio.

"Roger, keep it up."

After Seamus had received updates from the other Flight Leaders, everything had been appearing to go as planned.

Estoc Flight had successfully intercepted what was indeed a torpedo bomber squadron, long before the enemy was in range. Thanks to them, it appeared that not a single enemy bomber would be able to launch a torpedo at Shimakaze today.

Saber Flight was most likely annihilating the Abyssal fighter squadron, high up above the clouds. If Abyssal planes fighting Hornets was already unfair, then Abyssal planes in air combat against the Eagles and Strike Eagles of Saber Flight, whose F-15s were tailor-made for air-to-air engagements, was beyond overkill.

Lastly, Claymore Flight was preparing to fire a volley of anti-ship missiles at the one remaining enemy destroyer. If Seamus remembered correctly, on average it took about three to four AGM-84 Harpoons to sink an Abyssal destroyer. With that much ammo wasted just to kill a single Abyssal destroyer, it was easy to see why the world needed the shipgirls to handle a majority of operations against their much more numerous enemies.

At the very least, there were no casualties from any flight as of yet. Satisfied with the outcome so far, Seamus turned his attention back to his own task.

Since the enemy had attempted to execute a dive-bombing attack, Rapier was flying at a much lower altitude from before to enter visual range of the Abyssal planes. Due to this, Seamus could now see a small black dot, a white trail of disturbed water tailing it.

He assumed this was Shimakaze herself on the move, thankfully away from the Battleship Princess. It looked like the Abyssal ship casualties that she had inflicted earlier had given the destroyer girl a small avenue of breathing room. Now that she was not being hounded by enemy planes, she could take comfort in no longer being completely trapped anymore.

Glancing again at his radar, he saw that she was heading for one of the slower moving enemy blips, probably moving in to engage an enemy ship, as she promised earlier on the radio.

The mercenary could only hope that she would make it.

A whining tone snapped him back to the task at hand, the sound informing him that his selected Sidewinder was trying for a lock.

He could see that the black dots of Abyssal planes in front of him were dispersed, attempting to circle each other, no doubt trying to regroup their squadron into a proper attack formation. It seems like the enemy dive bombers had not completely given up on sinking Shimakaze. The surprise AMRAAM attack had broken the enemy's cohesion much better than Seamus had anticipated.

On his green tinted HUD, there was a green square which was inching itself closer to one of the black dots.

The black dots grew in size as Rapier flew closer. Seamus could now make out the forms of the enemy aircraft. He had seen this kind before, and despite knowing his advantages over such an enemy, seeing these monstrosities up close always made his stomach uneasy.

Looking at the flying creatures before him, the mercenary pilot's lips curled in disgust.

Floating white spheres that seemed to be impossibly defying the laws of physics, their maws open wide revealing jagged fangs. These horrors that supposedly came up from the depths, to wreak havoc on the surface world with no quarter or mercy and for reasons unknown. The single glowing orange eye of the dive bombers glared death at anything that crossed its path, as if the light emanating from the eye was powered by pure wrath.

The whining tone in Seamus's cockpit had now shifted into a growling tone as if his Super Hornet itself was snarling in defiance of such abominations. As if a machine created by man and loyal to man, was protesting a detestable perversion of a human creation.

But Seamus knew what the growling meant.

A successful infrared lock.

His Sidewinder was begging to be released and let loose upon the enemy and Seamus complied with its request.

"Fox Two!" he shouted.

The Lamenter hit the red trigger on his flight stick, gazing out of his canopy to his wing. He watched as the small air-to-air missile slid off of the rails and sped towards its final destination, making a satisfying whooshing sound as it launched.

"Fox Two!" the voice of a female Lamenter echoed her commander, firing off her own Sidewinder.

"Fox Two!" another Lamenter cried, this voice coming from a man with a deep southern drawl.

Seamus observed on his radar as the rest of the pilots in his flight let loose their own AIM-9s.

"Everyone! Nose up! We're gaining altitude!" Seamus ordered, pulling back on his flight stick.

Hitting the gas and causing his afterburners to roar once again, Seamus's back was slammed into his seat by the G-forces, climbing as fast as he could. Even though he had done this many times before, the G-forces still had the same effect on his body.

"How far?" Tony inquired, clear from his voice that the G's were affecting him too.

"Not far. These guys are real low. Let's just go up to angels three for now," Seamus relayed grunting as he started to feel a little bit light-headed.

Looking back down towards the enemy, he could see his missile, along with its kin launched from the other Lamenters, snaking their way towards their targets.

The Abyssals attempted to bank, turn, climb, or dive to avoid the incoming missiles, but no matter what they tried or what direction they moved, the short-range air-to-air missiles continuously corrected their flight paths and closed in on their prey. The resulting fireballs from multiple direct hits gave Seamus a little comfort as he watched the shredded remains of burning Abyssal aircraft rain down onto the Alaskan waves.

Not only were the missiles super effective on the enemy dive bombers, but their newly formed attack formation was broken up by the Lamenters just like their last formation had.

It was not long before Rapier Flight had reached the agreed altitude of three thousand feet above the low-flying clouds, hopefully offering them some visual cover from the enemy.

"Rapier! Cut your airspeed and execute the Split S! We'll drop in from both above and behind them!" Seamus ordered, laying off the gas himself.

As his Super Hornet obeyed his Split S maneuver, Seamus began to dive back down out of the clouds.

He looked to the left and right of him, relieved to see that the rest of Rapier Flight was keeping pace with him, if the contrails in the distance were to be trusted. Perhaps he wouldn't have to worry about these rookies too much after all.

Seamus noticed that the dive bomber squadron in front of him was a lot thinner roster-wise than before. He watched as the disorganized mess of enemy aircraft seemed to futilely scramble to regain their formation for a third time.

Rapier Flight, however, was not keen on letting that happen.

Seamus approached a few of the dive bombers that were regrouping and locked one of them up. Hearing the steady growling tone once again, he hit the trigger and let another AIM-9 Sidewinder fly.

"Fox Two!"

"We're merging with the enemy! Stay focused!" Tony exclaimed.

After watching the dive bomber he targeted get skewered by his heat-seeker, Seamus eyed another enemy plane that was trying to slip in behind him.

"Splash! He's done! Got another behind me, I'll catch him in a Rolling Scissors," he announced to his flight, reassuring them that he didn't need any help for now.

O'Doherty bled off his airspeed and pulled back on the stick, rolling his aircraft inverted before dipping back down, now behind the pursuing enemy.

He had to continue this song and dance a few times as the Abyssal attempted to counter his movements now that the two aircraft were stuck in the weaving waltz of a Rolling Scissors maneuver.

"Pitch up, over, dip back down. Come on, come on. I'll get you in one of these cycles," Seamus murmured to himself.

He switched to his guns and lined up the sights on his prey as best he could while the enemy plane attempted to break off to the right and out of the Rolling Scissors in an attempt shake Seamus off. The mercenary stay glued to his victim's tail however, mirrored his enemy's movements and managed to keep his gun sighted on the Abyssal.

Once he saw his opportunity, he made his six-barreled Gatling purr with delight, squeezing off a short burst of twenty-millimeter shells.

Over a dozen of the shells effortlessly punched through the frame of the Abyssal dive bomber and Seamus pulled up to avoid the debris that was spewing out from the dying enemy. He watched as smoke and fire erupted from the stricken Abyssal, the creature shrieking in agony as it plummeted down to the chilling water below.

Seamus quickly checked his gun ammo and saw that he was down to three hundred and sixty-nine shells.

 _"Still plenty,"_ he mentally noted.

"Fox Two!" Rapier Two cried, followed by the 'Fox Calls' of the other Rapier pilots.

"Cap! This is a fucking Turkey Shoot! Wouldn't shock me if they routed!" Tony shouted with excited glee.

The white contrails of missiles closing in on the surviving enemy dive bombers filled Seamus's vision from his canopy, giving him an itch to join his Rapier Flight in the hunt.

Seamus pulled back hard on his flight stick, going into a vertical climb, making the nose of his Super Hornet point directly up into the sky. Then he continued to pull back on his flight stick so that his fighter was beginning to flip onto its back.

It appeared like he was going to make a loop, but once his nose reached a forty-five-degree angle from the water, he punched in full lateral stick and full rudder in the same direction while still holding back on the stick. He maintained his forty-five-degree angle as his Super Hornet shifted to the right, turning in what looked like a controlled flat spin.

Somewhere deep in the depths of Seamus's mind, there was a Tokyo drift joke lurking.

This maneuver allowed him to turn his aircraft back towards the remaining enemy dive bombers and drop in behind the airspace that the enemy still inhabited.

He gave his engine some gas as he slipped out of his properly executed Pirouette maneuver, and as a result, was in the perfect position to continue stalking enemy planes.

Grinning from behind his oxygen mask, Seamus gunned his Super Hornet to a group of several Abyssal planes he spotted.

He switched back to his Sidewinders and waited for the death growls to permeate within his cockpit. Once the snarling of the tone blared in his ears and seeing the green square on his HUD trapping an Abyssal inside of it, he squeezed the trigger.

Seeing the impact from his Sidewinder prying open one of those stupid flying balls like a can was instantly gratifying to Seamus's eyes.

The next missile he fired splintered his Abyssal victim into several burning chunks, dunking into the cold water below.

Alarmed by the incoming fire, the group of Abyssal aircraft scattered, hoping to throw the Super Hornet off of their scent.

Seamus, drunk with adrenaline, picked one of the pack and tailed it.

Flipping over to his gun, Seamus peppered his target with cannon shells, dispatching the poor Abyssal without much difficulty.

"Claymore One, Bruiser!" the deep voice of Marcus Jackson declared over the radio.

"Bruiser!" another Claymore pilot echoed.

"Bruiser!"

"Bruiser!"

Seamus recognized this as Claymore Flight firing a volley of anti-ship missiles.

"Mark, how is Claymore Flight?" he asked.

"Harpoon missiles away! Standby Cap!" Marcus replied.

Anti-aircraft shells zipping by his canopy jolted Seamus momentarily before he pressed into the gas and sped away.

"Shit!"

He gazed down at the ocean below him and noticed an Abyssal light cruiser with massive hands and multiple gun turrets, happily firing up at him. He took note of the odd helmet that it was wearing, and its animalistic design.

"Rapier Flight, watch for Triple-A fire from below! There's an enemy cruiser down there!" Seamus relayed to his flight.

"Cap! Claymore Flight has successfully sunk the last enemy destroyer!" Marcus reported ecstatically.

"Great, now get rid of this cruiser below us, will you?"

"Roger Cap! We're heading over to you!"

The Abyssal light cruiser stopped firing at Seamus once he had flown out of her range. She retargeted and picked out another Super Hornet that was firing its gun at an Abyssal dive bomber.

"This is Shimakaze! I just sank an Abyssal cruiser! One of her torpedoes hit me though, and now my leg is kinda…ow. All of my torpedoes are used up and I don't have any more gun turrets working," Shimakaze reported from her radio, it was evident from her voice that she was in a lot of pain.

"You should retreat now. We will sink the last enemy cruiser so it can't chase you. Can you keep evading the shots from the Battleship Princess?" The AWACS operator asked.

"Don't worry! I'm too fast for her to get a bead on me! Just make sure those planes don't follow me!" she replied.

"No problem for our guys. I'll even request Claymore to hit the Abby Princess with a few missiles. Hopefully, that'll mess with her aim," James Wrong said.

"Thanks, pilots!" the wounded destroyer said as she began to sail away from the combat area.

"Lamenter Squadron! Shimakaze is retreating. We need to provide cover for her, so let's sink that cruiser and mop up these remaining aircraft. Ya got that?"

"Roger, WEEPING ANGEL. We'll take care of it," Seamus answered, firing an AIM-9 at one enemy plane, before promptly chasing a second flying Abyssal with his cannon barking.

"Fox Two!" Tony declared, his missile transforming another Abyssal dive bomber into scrap metal.

Rapier Two really wished that he didn't have to fly today. It was supposed to be the squadron's day off, and he was supposed to be either still asleep in his room, or on the phone with his girlfriend back in Chicago.

But no, a Japanese shipgirl abandons her own fleet for whatever reason and now he has to drag her ass out of the trouble she found herself in.

Tony sighed at the thought, watching his latest kill sink into the ocean.

" _From far away, that crashing Abby plane probably could be mistaken for a meteor,"_ he pondered.

He knew that as Rapier Two, he was supposed to be Seamus's wingman.

But Seamus, as always, was off doing his own thing, getting scrappy in close-up dogfights. It was hard for him to keep up with Seamus sometimes. Tony was cool with it; it gave him a chance to help some of the greener rookies gain some combat experience.

With that in mind, he then turned to look at the Hornet flying on his wing.

"Hey Rapier Four, I'm out of missiles. You wanna grab the next kill? After all, I think you cou-"

An anti-aircraft shell smashed through the nose of his Super Hornet, before bursting and spitting shrapnel inside of the cockpit. Thick blood splashed against the canopy, obscuring the view from the outside. Tony's body was instantly shredded by the metallic fragments, crimson fluid leaking out from every conceivable point of his corpse. His Super Hornet was now dropping from the sky, screeching its way to the water below.

"Tony!" Seamus cried out in shock.

"Holy shit! Rapier Two is gone!" another pilot panicked.

"Did he punch out?! Is there a chute?!" James frantically demanded.

"No, he's dead! He was fucking right next to me! What the fuck?!" the pilot flying as Rapier Four shouted, completely stunned by what just happened.

"ABBY BITCH!" Seamus snapped from behind his oxygen mask, "Claymore! You better fucking KILL HER!"

He had lost friends before, but he was not prepared for it to happen like this. Despite only knowing Tony Vittorio for only a year, Seamus had taken a liking to his wingman and his off-duty antics.

But now his friend was gone.

So suddenly.

Filled with rage, he fired his last Sidewinder at the enemy dive bomber that he had been engaged with. Seamus huffed angrily as he watched the doomed enemy spew scrap and flames from its metallic wounds.

"This is Claymore One, we are in range! Bruiser! Bruiser!" Marcus yelled into his mic, malice dripping from his own voice.

The combined rage of the entire Lamenter Squadron was heard through the radio and was amplified by the fact that Claymore Flight had fired more anti-ship missiles at the culprit than was necessary.

All of the Lamenters present glared hatefully at the light cruiser and then collectively cheered when Claymore's sea-skimming missiles harshly blasted away the Abyssal cruiser. Some would say that nailing a single light cruiser with eight Harpoon anti-ship missiles was excessive overkill, but for the Lamenters, it was justice that was due.

"That's what you get!" Seamus yelled down at the burning wrecking with a spiteful grin.

"Jesus Christ, guys! Did you need to waste ordnance like that?! You got her, alright?! Now, focus! The mission isn't done yet!" James Wrong urged, "Claymore, fire your remaining Harpoons at the Abyssal Princess. Everyone else, continue to mop up the enemy aircraft."

Seamus, his adrenaline still riding off of his newfound rage, turned his aircraft more sharply than he normally would.

"Over-G! Over-G!" the female voice from the onboard computer warned him, but he brushed off the annoyance.

He was chasing down a retreating Abyssal dive bomber with murderous intent as if letting it survive would mean his own death. He gunned down the poor enemy before moving on to a second, his vigor and drive still yet to deplete.

He was not the only one.

As Claymore Flight engaged the Battleship Princess with the last of their Harpoons, they laughed and jeered at the suffering of the Abyssal vessel as she endured the agonizing discomfort of being hit with the remaining two anti-ship missiles, one of which slammed brutally into her face. The pilots of Claymore Flight followed this up with making gun run after gun run on the Princess, peppering her entire deck with 20mm shells.

She would easily survive such damage, but Claymore Flight had done their job, affecting her ability to fire at Shimakaze.

As both Rapier Flight engaged the remaining aircraft above the Abyssal Princess, and Claymore Flight began to nail the Abyssal ship with what few AIM-9s they carried on their wingtips, she decided that she had overstayed her welcome.

Despite shrugging off their attacks, the Princess was not fond of numerous enemy aircraft flying above her without support. There was no telling when enemy reinforcements would arrive and most of her ambushing forces were lost, including all five of the ships she brought with her. Her target had escaped and now her staying any longer was begging for the enemy to seriously try to sink her.

Not to mention that one of the anti-ship missiles had disabled one of her main turrets, and she did not trust her own anti-air defenses to fight off an entire squadron of fighter jets singlehandedly. And combined with whatever reinforcements were en route, they would overwhelm her.

She was an Abyssal Princess, one of the strongest of her kind. But she was also amongst the wisest as well. She didn't see any benefit in continuing this fight. There was also no way she could pursue her quarry. Even in a wounded state, Shimakaze was still too fast for her.

With all this in mind, the Abyssal Battleship Princess begrudgingly retreated from the combat zone.

"This is Saber Flight; the enemy fighter squadron is fleeing. We routed them. But not before we hemorrhaged their ranks some," Greg reported, his accent bleeding through his mic.

"Rapier here, the dive bomber squadron was killed to the last. We are out of ammo and the Abyssal Princess has retreated," a Seamus that had taken some time to calm down added.

He took deep breath after deep breath, trying to cool himself down completely. Whether it was justified or not, he was ashamed of his outburst earlier. Even if the entire squadron shared his sentiments, that didn't make it right. In his eyes, it was not very fitting of a commander to lose his composure like that.

He was thankful that him losing his cool did not negatively impact the mission in any way.

" _Still, should not make a habit out of losing my shit,"_ the mercenary captain thought.

"Claymore is out of missiles as well. All enemy ships, save the Abby Princess, have been sunk. Shimakaze managed to survive…somehow," Marcus said.

"Estoc managed to push away the torpedo bombers. We even managed to wipe out half their squadron in the process. Don't worry, the direction they are retreating is too far from Shimakaze for them to try anything," Ryan MacDonnell reassured.

"Alright. As rough as that was, we have accomplished our mission. WEEPING ANGEL will notify Command. Lamenter Squadron is clear to RTB," James Wrong stated.

With that, all four of the flights of Lamenter Squadron rendezvoused in the air while making their way back to the shoreline of Alaska. It appeared that the ticket back to Elmendorf Air Force Base was the cost of one Lamenter's life.

Seamus doubted that he nor any of the Lamenters would ever get used to the fact that battles were typically a lot less time consuming than they felt. For him personally, it appeared to have taken all day. But only a few hours had gone by since they had taken off and now the encounter was over.

It was an unreal sensation.

Some might take that as a blessing, others a curse. A few might even say it was both or neither.

He did not know which camp he belonged to.

All he did know was that another one of his friends had died today.

"Estoc Ten, your Eagle is lagging behind the rest of us. What's wrong?" Ryan inquired.

"Is something up, Mac?" Seamus butted in, searching for anything to pull himself out of his thoughts.

The mercenary commander glanced behind and saw that in fact, one of the F-15 Eagles under Estoc Flight, was indeed lagging behind the returning formation. He also noticed that the Eagle appeared to be losing altitude as well.

"Hey! This is Estoc One! Your Flight Leader! Say something!" Ryan demanded.

The entire squadron listened as the voice of a timid young man spoke into the radio.

"This is Estoc Ten, I'm experiencing some mechanical trouble," he said softly.

"Alright, I'll double-back and stay with you until you make it to base," Seamus said.

"I'll fall back as well," Ryan sighed.

"The Flight Leads will stay back and guide Estoc Ten back to base. Except for you, Mark. You can get everyone else back to Elmendorf, right?" Seamus asked.

"No problem, Cap. Leave it to me," Marcus responded.

"Good thing I'm stayin' too. I'm the only Flight Lead with ammo left, even if it's only my cannon," Greg pointed out as his Strike Eagle joined the two Hornets by turning inverted and flying to the rear of the formation.

As the three Flight Leaders reached the now-lopsided Eagle of Estoc Ten, they began to question him on what exactly was wrong.

"I don't know, actually. I'm just losing a lot of thrust for some reason. I have plenty of fuel. Am I hit anywhere? Can you check please?" the young rookie pleaded with his superiors.

Seamus and the other Flight Leaders began to scan the rookie's F-15, searching for bullet holes, dents, missing parts, leaks, torn wings or fins, they even checked to see if the conformal fuel tanks had been punctured.

As far as they could see, there was no visible external damage to the aircraft at all.

"Greg, can you level up next to him and check the top of his Eagle? Mac, you go under him and get a good look at the underbelly. I'm going to inspect his rear, see if there's something up with his engines," Seamus said, the three veteran Lamenters putting his plan into action.

After they maneuvered their planes accordingly, they began to do a full inspection of the F-15.

All three leaders checked and double-checked each part of the aircraft more closely, looking even for the most minute detail of external damage.

"Nothin' wrong up here," Greg announced, investigating the top of the rookie's Eagle.

"Everything is as it should be on the bottom," Ryan said, gazing up at the underbelly of the aircraft.

"His engines are just fine. It looks like your Eagle is healthy from out here. Are you sure you're hitting the gas correctly?" Seamus asked the rookie pilot.

"Yes, Cap. I'm pretty much flooring it," the rookie replied.

"You're Mendoza correct?" Seamus mused.

"Yes sir, Charlie Mendoza."

Seamus nodded.

"Alright then, Charlie. It sounds like your problem is with the electronics, not physical damage. Your onboard computer must be malfunctioning. That's okay, it happens. As long as you keep the aircraft steady and the nose up, you should make it back to base just fine. Then, we'll have someone take a look at what caused this," Seamus assured.

"Yeah, like we said earlier, we'll stay with you all the way in," Greg added.

"I'm your Flight Leader, I'm not going anywhere," Ryan promised.

After a few minutes of flying, the veteran mercenaries conversed with Charlie about various topics. Where he called home, his family, his interests, they mostly did this just to pass the time while occasionally reminding the rookie to keep his plane level.

They found out that Charlie was from San Diego and that he had joined the Lamenters after one of the many aerial bombings the Abyssals carried out on the city. The rookie wanted to get revenge on the enemy for wrecking his hometown.

Being from Seattle himself, Seamus could understand the sentiment. It seemed like a favorite pastime of the Abyssals to bomb or shell coastal cities, even ones that were adequately defended.

The three Flight Leaders continued to discuss more subjects with Mendoza before they all collectively began to notice the nose of the F-15 Eagle dip downward.

"Hey! Keep that nose up!" Ryan ordered.

"I swear I'm trying! Something's wrong! It's not responding to me!" Charlie cried out in alarm.

"Keep trying! Pull up! Pull up!" Seamus ordered sternly.

"Nothing! I'm getting nothing!"

What happened next was something that shocked all four of the pilots.

The Eagle's engines powered down.

"What the hell did you do?! Turn the engines back on!" Greg snapped furiously.

"I didn't do anything! I swear they just shut themselves off!" Charlie answered, urgency in his voice.

"Are you sure you have fuel?"

"I have more than enough fuel! This doesn't make any sense!"

Charlie looked on in mute horror as he watched his onboard computer completely shut down in front of him.

His radar blinked out, followed by his HUD, and it wasn't long before he had lost all of his avionics. He even tried to flip his Master Arm switch on and off and got no response.

"What!? How!? My power supply was fine when I took off!" he pleaded.

"What?! Your power shut off!? What the fuck!?" Ryan blurted out, completely stunned.

The rookie frantically tried to restart his engines and computer but there didn't seem to be anything going in his favor. No matter what he tried, everything failed to reactivate.

"Nothing is working! I have no control!" Charlie whimpered, panic settling into his voice.

"Keep trying! Your radio is still working, keep that in mind!" Seamus urged.

"You didn't shut it off by accident?!" Greg yelled.

"No, I swear! I haven't done anything to the systems!" Charlie confirmed.

"This is impossible…there's no way…" Ryan muttered.

Charlie's Eagle continued to lose altitude and began to dip below the clouds, now heading towards the water at a much faster pace. He tried to look to his altitude monitor but since his electronics were not working, he couldn't view any of the readings.

The jets of the three Flight Leaders kept pace with the failing F-15, the pilots inside trying desperately to help the rookie.

"Aw shit! You're bleeding altitude way too fast!" Seamus cursed, "Forget it. There's no use if the systems won't respond. Punch out."

"Wha-what?!" Charlie nervously stuttered.

"Punch the fuck out!" Seamus repeated.

"He wants you to eject! Can you do that?!" Ryan clarified.

"Um...okay! I'll give it a shot!"

Seamus and the other two Flight Leads were now in almost a complete nosedive to keep up with the rookie's descending aircraft. The fact that the G-forces were beginning to have an effect on him was concerning to say the least. That would mean that the others were enduring the G-forces as well.

As if Charlie didn't have enough problems already.

"I-I can't eject! The ah! Canopy w-won't blow!" Charlie managed to squeeze out, his voice telegraphing the fact that the effects of the G-forces were getting the better of him.

"Don't you give up, dammit! Keep trying!" Seamus ordered; teeth clenched as he fought not to black out from the G-forces.

"Over-G! Over-G!" the female voice from his computer was nagging at him once again.

"S-Still nothing! Canopy n-no good! Grr! Ejection…no g-good!" Charlie said.

"D-Dammit C-Cap! We go-gotta pull out!" Ryan gritted his teeth.

Seamus really did not want to leave one of his Lamenters behind.

But he saw that Ryan was right.

If they stayed with Charlie any longer, then all four of them would pass out and Lamenter Squadron would lose three of its four veterans, possibly dooming the entire squadron.

Seamus cut his airspeed as much as he could and cranked back hard on the stick, the edges of his vision beginning to blacken.

"Over-G! Over-G! Wake Up! Wake Up! Over-G! Over-G!"

The mercenary commander would give anything to shut his computer up right now. He breathed a large sigh of relief as he managed to stabilize his fighter. Leveling off his Super Hornet and feeling the effects of the G-forces leave his body, he immediately glanced behind him and was relieved to see that a Hornet and a Strike Eagle were right on his tail, completely unscathed.

Taking a few seconds to gather his breath and reorient himself, his thoughts returned to Estoc Ten.

The only jet that was missing behind him was Charlie's F-15.

"Shit," Seamus muttered, "Charlie, you still there?! Don't giv-"

"Save it, Cap. He's most likely passed out by now," Ryan admitted solemnly.

Seamus froze as the implication entered his mind.

"Can he survive if he hits the water?" Seamus asked hopefully.

"Not likely, but possible," Greg replied.

"We will prepare a rescue chopper then," the AWACS operator cut in.

Seamus had forgotten that the entire Lamenter Squadron was tuned into this radio channel.

Looking back down where Charlie was expected to crash, his demeanor washed away into melancholy. Judging by the following radio silence, he knew it was the same for the others too. For the entire squadron, actually, since he hadn't heard a peep out of the rest of the Lamenters.

Watching the Eagle that was now in a complete nosedive, they anticipated for him to hit the water. They continued to fly closer to the suspected point of impact, then if possible, they would stay until the rescue chopper arrived.

As the doomed F-15 Eagle was mere seconds from the water, all three of the Flight Leaders leaned over in their cockpits to watch the impact as closely as possible.

"C'mon, c'mon," Seamus muttered.

But instead of a splash, their eyes were instead greeted by a horrific explosion when the Eagle was supposed to hit the water, throwing all three Flight Leaders into shock. The bright fireball that engulfed the F-15 and the rookie pilot, reflected in their eyes.

"What the hell happened?! Why did he explode!?" Ryan sputtered in confusion.

Seamus was speechless at what he just witnessed.

"No fucking way…a rock?"

"Cap?! What?!"

"A fucking rock! I see it now! It's small from this distance but…he hit a fucking rock!" Seamus shouted in a flurried mix of confusion and rage, "Are you goddamn serious?! At least in the water, he had a fucking chance!"

Ryan shook his head in disbelief as he squinted his eyes.

He could now see the jagged edge that the plane had collided with sticking out of the water.

In the middle of the ocean.

He far as he could see, it was the _only_ rock in the entire area.

"The probability is-that's-no! That can't be!"

For two of the Flight Leaders, their brains cranked and churned hopelessly as they tried to process an event, which to many would be deemed impossible.

An engine shutting itself off, followed by the electronics mysteriously failing, and finally, crashing onto the one rock sticking out of the middle of the ocean.

The probability of even one of these things happening was already _very_ unlikely, never mind all three happening at the _exact same time_.

But to the third Flight Leader, his conviction was resolute.

He knew what this was.

What caused all this.

It was the reason why he witnessed things like this happen during his time with this squadron.

It was the reason why some military units, shipgirls, or even other mercenary outfits shied away from cooperating with the Lamenters.

He didn't know why it did these things or how it did them, but he knew it was real.

And he feared the culprit more than any Abyssal or any enemy.

"Goddamn **Lamenters Luck** ," Greg spat under his breath.

* * *

 **And here is the third and final part of the first chapter!**

* * *

 **2nd Tactical Fighter Squadron (Lamenter Squadron), Blood Angels Mercenary Legion**

 **Blood Angels HQ: Los Angeles, California, USA**

 **Lamenter Squadron HQ: Seattle, Washington, USA**

 **Lamenter Squadron (At Full Strength):**

 **Rapier Flight – 6x F/A-18E Super Hornet, 4x F/A-18C Hornet**

Flight Lead: Captain Seamus "Cap" O'Doherty

Primary: Air-to-Air

Secondary: Air-to-Ship/Ground

 **Saber Flight – 6x F-15E Strike Eagle, 4x F-15C Eagle**

Flight Lead: Captain Gregory "Greg" Burdette

Primary: Air-to-Air

Secondary: Air-to-Ship/Ground (Rare Loadout)

 **Estoc Flight – 6x F-15C Eagle, 4x F/A-18C Hornet**

Flight Lead: Captain Ryan "Mac" MacDonnell

Primary: Air-to-Air

Secondary: Air-to-Ship/Ground

 **Claymore Flight – 10x F/A-18C Hornet**

Flight Lead: Captain Marcus "Mark" Jackson

Primary: Air-to-Ship/Ground

Secondary: Air-to-Air

 **Lamenter AWACS "WEEPING ANGEL" – 1x E-3 Sentry**

Radio Operator: Lieutenant James "Pun-Master" Wrong

Primary: Providing early warning, mid-battle alerts, and crucial intelligence to Lamenter Squadron

Secondary: Provides Lamenter Squadron comms with allied forces


End file.
